


When Dreams Become Reality

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: sentineltoo, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has to face the demons of his past as well as his present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Dreams Become Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my stories never made it to the archive, thus I'm reposting a few. 
> 
> Quentin Tarantino alert --- blood and guts and body parts are described. Oh, and m/m sex, but I guess you've figured that out already.

## When Dreams Become Reality

by Rayden Star

Author's disclaimer: The characters of Jim and Blair belong to Pet Fly.

* * *

Blood. The sight, the smell, the stench...it was everywhere. He couldn't get it off of himself, it clung to everything. Looking all around, there was nothing but death and devastation, as if a massacre had happened. There was nothing to salvage, no life to save, with the exception of his own. Could he go on, after watching each man die, burying each friend, each buddy? To leave them here, in this God-forsaken country to be left unmourned? Oh no, he would mourn them; mourn the loss of his men, mourn the loss of his innocence, mourn the loss of himself. He turned an ear toward the jungle, ever listening, ever watchful, looking around as if the jungle itself was alive. He struggled to center himself, to take some comfort of the jungle that surrounded him, enveloped him. He found himself honing in on the utter heartbeat of the jungle, focusing in, the slow and steady beat, echoing until ... nothing. 

Jim Ellison jerked awake, his dream shattered by reality as a Code Blue was sounded in the ICU. The clatter of the crash cart, the yell of orders, the shrill of monitors, it was enough to send his senses into overdrive. It wasn't until he realized what was missing, that what he relied on to center himself was absent, that he began to panic. Blair's heartbeat was gone. He ran to the glass that separated Sentinel from Guide and watched as the doctors valiantly tried to save his partner. Jim couldn't breathe, his own heart slowing as if they were connected; one cannot live without the other. With one more shock of the defibrillator, the fragile heartbeat began again; his Guide would live, for now. Jim couldn't tear his eyes away from the one man that had become his salvation. 

A hand on his shoulder diverted his attention away from the window. 

"Detective Ellison?" Jim nodded, his voice too much of a distraction as he kept his senses trained beyond the glass pane. "He's stable for now, we'll know more in the morning. Why don't you go home and get some rest?" 

Jim shook his head and sat back down in the chair next to the cubicle. He would wait, his silent vigil being the least he could do for the man behind the glass. 

After the doctor had left and the remaining staff had settled off of their Code Blue adrenaline high, Jim allowed himself to reflect on the events that had lead up to this horrific occasion. Knowing another Sentinel was out there, knowing she and Blair had met, knowing she was trouble, he had still thrown his Guide out of the loft and into her claws. He was now paying the price: although Blair was technically alive, he hadn't regained consciousness and they weren't certain if he would escape brain damage, especially if they had to operate to control the swelling. Whatever she hit him with had done severe damage; the only saving grace was that it knocked him unconscious before he was thrown into the fountain, thus saving his lungs from more permanent harm. Jim regained enough of awareness to realize a nurse was checking in on his partner. He touched her on the arm when she came out. 

"Excuse me, can I visit with him, for just a few minutes?" He tried to keep his voice under control, to not sound too needy, too pleading, but he knew he failed. 

The nurse smiled at him and patted the hand that held her arm. "Of course, but only for five minutes, okay?" 

Jim nodded and allowed a small smile to escape. "Thank you." 

The hospital cubicle was like all the others; sterile, cold, lifeless. It disturbed Jim to see Blair so still, no energy rolling off of his Guide in waves like he was used to. He noticed a blanket at the end of the bed and pulled it up over his partner; he knew Blair didn't like to be cold. He smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket, allowing himself a moment to touch the living body beneath him; to imprint that blood was flowing and that there was _life_ there. He watched, his gaze never faltering from his Guide's face. Then, almost on instinct, he leaned toward the motionless face, careful of the tubes and hoses that were keeping him with the living, and kissed the pale, grayish cheek. He allowed himself to linger; taking in the sight, the smell, the touch, imprinting them all into his psyche once more. He breathed deeply against the soft curls and leaned closer to whisper to his Guide before the approaching footsteps could come and take him away. 

"I need you Blair...come back to me. I won't survive this time if you don't." 

Jim straightened up and nodded just as the nurse came back into the room. He walked back to his chair beside the glass window to keep his silent vigil. He vowed to remain there, remain the ever-sentry until his Guide came home. 

* * *

It was around him again; death and dying. Each man mortally wounded; all but himself. It was a war zone but nary a shot had been fired. The stench of blood and burnt flesh assaulted his nose, the heat and humidity keeping the rankness right at the crash site. The blood had also attracted swarms of mosquitoes; other scavenger animals would be showing up soon. It was a task that had to be done, out of the courtesy and respect he owed his men. One by one, as they died around him he pulled them out of the wreckage and buried them, all seven of them, and then he sat back to attend to his own wounds. It was then he noticed one last body; but he was certain he had counted correctly before. He shrugged it off to fatigue, emotional horror and shock and prepared to bury the last dead man. Funny, this one had long hair; they don't allow long hair in the Army. He turned the limp body over and gagged as the deep blue eyes stared lifeless back at him. 

Jim jerked awake again, his heart pounding and his breathing coming in deep gasps. He struggled to find his center, fear the overriding emotion and a thin sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. Panic quickly set in as he realized his Guide's heartbeat was gone. 

He rushed to the nurses station, his words in an endless stream. 

"Where is he? What happened? Why didn't someone wake me? Is he all right?" 

The night-shift nurse looked at the crazy man before her. She had seen him sleeping in the chair outside of ward 3 and had inquired as to who he was. Once she was informed that he was a cop and his partner was in the cubicle, it all made sense. Now to calm the man down. 

"Detective, your partner is fine. They took him to surgery to alleviate the pressure the swelling in the brain was causing. Please calm down and take a deep breath." The nurse put her hand on his upper arm to reassure him that his fears were unfounded. 

Jim did as he was told and allowed his senses to search the hospital, straining out all the other noises, focusing on finding the one. Ah...there it was, strong and steady, if not a bit slow, but that was to be expected during surgery. He unclenched his jaw and swallowed, allowing his gaze to settle back on the nurse. 

"Thank you. Would you please make a note on Mr. Sandburg's chart that I am to be found, notified, woken up, whatever if there is any change in his condition? You'll note that I'm listed as the medical contact." Jim was trying to be as diplomatic as possible, but the undercurrent of anger was coming out in his voice. 

"Of course. But you looked like you could've used the sleep, and there wasn't anything you could have done." 

"Just please notify me when he's in recovery, please?" Without waiting for an answer, Jim turned and headed toward the bank of phones to call Simon with an update. 

* * *

It had been two days since that fateful afternoon at the fountain; two agonizing days without hearing his Guide's voice, two days without seeing his smile. Jim was certain he was going crazy. He looked out the window and watched the rain make random patterns against the glass, a part of him wanting to zone out and never return, another part too wrapped up in guilt to allow that to happen. He would protect the Guide at all costs, and he would take care of him. That was the least he could do. 

The doctors weren't all that promising, and although they opted for the 'wait and see' verbiage, their bodies betrayed them. Jim knew they were trying to keep his hopes up, but with each new day dawning and Blair still unconscious, it wasn't looking good. The doctors have been subtlety trying to prepare him for the worse; Blair might never wake up, or he could wake up and have the IQ of a five-year-old. They just didn't know, wait and see, hope for the best. The words swam round and round the Sentinel's head, but one thing was crystal clear: he would take care of his Guide, no matter what. He loved him too much to ever let him go again. As long as Blair was simply _alive,_ he'd be taken care of by one Jim Ellison. 

Love? When did love enter into the picture? Jim wasn't sure, but he probably loved his partner since he threw him up against the wall in that tiny office. He just wouldn't allow himself to consciously acknowledge that fact until now. Now when it might be too late to tell him, that his Guide might not understand, Jim was ready to tell him. Jim smirked at the lousy timing and he kept his gaze on the falling rain. He vowed that as soon as those blue orbs opened, he was going to tell him, society and its stupid morals be damned. Jim turned back to face the man that owned him heart and soul. Blair had been moved from ICU into a private room earlier that morning, and here Jim could sit with his partner as long as he wanted. He sat back down in the chair next to the bed and placed his hand over the smaller one that lay so motionless. He allowed his eyes to close as he concentrated on the sound and feel of the slow and steady heartbeat that pulsed under the skin. It became the heartbeat of his own soul, the heartbeat of the lush jungle which spawned him. 

He felt himself falling, too fast, too steep and there was nothing he could do. He landed hard, his entire body jarring with the contact. He hurt all over and oh God, there it was again, blood. His own, which was starting to pool beneath him. So much blood, too much for it to be all his and he still be alive. He allowed his eyes to focus on the objects around him; twisted metal, torn leaves and branches, bodies lying about like broken rag dolls. He tried to get up, but shooting pain throughout his body forced him back down into his half-laying, half-sitting position. Once the pain subsided, he surveyed the damage to his own body and found himself pinned down by a fallen and twisted restraining bar. Finding it gave a little, he worked it back and forth until he was able to scoot out from underneath it, then crawled through the mangled chopper to help his men. 

It took ever ounce of willpower to not lose it. None of the medic training videos, none of the most horrific war footage could have prepared him for the carnage that lay before him. It was obvious that Greene and Jones, the chopper pilots, were dead. Greene had a small tree trunk sticking through his chest and Jones' head was nearly severed off by broken glass. He forced himself to look away and find any survivors of this extremely-botched mission. He tried to remember their positions in the chopper; Morris and Sarris were in the back, Sanceco and Johnson were in the middle and he and Clarke were in front behind the pilots. He found Clarke first, the man barely alive and as he inspected the damage, he knew Clarke wouldn't last much longer. The same tree trunk that had taken out Greene had Clarke pinned as well. As soon as he removed the trunk, Clarke would bleed out and there would be nothing he could do. Deep brown eyes sought his and Clarke attempted to speak, but could only form gasps and barely audible sounds. 

"Shhh, Clarke, save your strength." He placed his hand on the man's shoulder, offering the only assistance he knew: to let the man know he would not die alone. It seemed to be a comfort to the dying man, and as the doomed man closed his eyes, a small smiled settled on his lips and he breathed no more. 

The lone survivor moved on, finding the rest of his men either dead or dying. Morris lingered the longest, hanging on for almost three hours after the crash, and he allowed himself to hope that at least one other man would survive with him, but Morris succumbed to his injuries and he was the last to be buried. He stepped back and took in the horror in front of him: seven gravemarkers, with seven names of seven brave men who had given their lives in an attempt so others might live. He started to gather his things and complete the mission, as any good soldier would, when a voice stopped him. It was a voice he knew, but he didn't. The voice begged him not to leave, not to leave him behind, not to toss him away. But he couldn't locate the voice, so he shrugged it off and made his way into the jungle, the voice becoming fainter and fainter, until it was nothing but a whisper in his imagination. Then he was enveloped in silence. 

Jim jerked awake, the awful memories that now plagued his dreams and his reality rushing to the surface. He swallowed hard a few times to get himself under control, forced his body to calm down. He reached out and located the one thing that would center the control. He latched onto the sound, allowing it to surround him, the steady beat becoming the rhythm by which he lived. Blair was still here, still alive and not taken from him like the others. He would never be alone, never have to face the jungle alone again. He squeezed the hand beneath his and leaned in closer to his partner, his lips brushing the soft skin at the temple, his words came out a mere whisper. 

"I love you Chief, and I'm going to take care of you, forever, no matter what. That's a promise." 

He kissed his temple once more, then lay his head down on the side of the bed, his senses carefully monitoring the precious life next to him. 

* * *

He was home and happy, bathed in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, Blair laying next to him, as it should be. It had been so intense that he had yet to open his eyes. He relished the feel of his lover's hand through his hair, the thundering of both of their hearts, and the scent...what was wrong with the scent? It was off and out of place, from a different time, a different life...Blood. He opened his eyes to find his lover absently stroking his hair, but Blair had blood matted in his long locks, dirt and grime covering his face, flesh hanging off his cheek. 

Jim lurched awake to find his partner had regained consciousness and was gently patting Jim's head, the only communication he was allowed given the ventilator down his throat. Jim calmed his thundering heart and smiled as he placed his hand on Blair's chest, Blair's other hand coming up to join it, two bodies slowly healing. 

* * *

The process of recovery was slow for Blair, but Jim forced himself to be patient, to not rush him. Blair had to regain some motor control in his legs and work on his speech patterns; it frustrated the young man that he couldn't run rampant at the mouth anymore; it took careful consideration to get the words out, and even then, he had a bit of a stutter when he was emotional. And Jim was there, coaxing, helping, encouraging, never faltering in his promise to be there for him, no matter what. But it was also an awkward time; Jim refused to talk to Blair about what had transpired prior to the fountain, he also refused to talk about his feelings toward his Guide, breaking that part of the promise he made to himself. He ignored his heart's feelings; it was good enough that Blair was alive and coming home soon. 

Home. Yet another thing they had refused to talk about. Jim hadn't been there much more than to shave and shower, all other time had been spent at the hospital. The gang at Major Crime had returned the loft to its usual neatness, placing every knick-knack and pillow in its proper place. To Jim, it wouldn't be home without Blair and he couldn't bear it if Blair told him he wasn't coming home. No, better to assume everything's okay, live a possible lie a little longer. It was better than the alternative, better than having his dreams become reality. 

But the subject wouldn't stay buried forever, and the fateful day came four short weeks later. 

"Well Mr. Sandburg, looks like you're ready to leave this joint. How does that sound to you?" 

"O-okay." 

Jim heard his Guide's heart rate jump. 

"Just okay? Looks like you'd be chomping at the bit to get out of here. I can have your release papers done by the end of the day." The doctor turned to Jim. "I gather you will be helping him at home?" 

"Yeah, I'll be there." 

"Good." The doctor turned back to Blair. "I'll see you before you're released." The doctor signed off on Blair's chart and walked out of the room. 

"So, Chief, excited about getting out of here?" Jim watched for a hopeful sign from his partner. 

"Y-yeah, I g-guess so." Blair couldn't look Jim in the eye, so he decided to become very interested in the hospital ID band around his wrist. 

"Tell ya what, when we get home, we'll order Chinese tonight, all your favorites. Doc didn't say you had any restrictions on your diet, right?" //That's it Ellison, just ease into it like nothing had ever happened.// 

"J-Jim, I know w-we haven't d-d-discussed it, b-but..." His ID band was looking mighty interesting right now, and he worried it, the nervous energy coming out in his hands and his speech patterns. He hadn't stuttered this bad in days. Jim, as was par for this course, waited patiently for Blair to continue. It would do either of them no good for Jim to start second-guessing him or trying to complete his sentences for him. After a few deep breaths, Blair continued. 

"I m-mean...w-w-where's home?" 

That did it. Jim's heart broke into a million pieces, then shattered into a million more. He moved from his chair to the side of the bed and placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and swallowed hard. "Chief, home is at the loft, with me, that is, if you want to go back there. The guys, well, they put everything back the way you had it, even went and got the stuff out of your office. But, uh, if you don't want to go there..." 

"No! I w-want t-t-to, b-but y-you d-don't. I d-don't w-want pity. And I-I d-don't w-w-want y-you to d-do it b-because y-you feel g-g-guilty." He stopped. He couldn't get the words out, they wouldn't come, somehow becoming scrambled between his thoughts and his voice. 

"Oh God, no, I want you home, where you belong. Please, look at me." Blair didn't remove his gaze from his ID band. "Look at me, _please_?" Blair's eyes never left his wrist. "Blair, please, I...I need you to look at me." 

For Jim Ellison to admit to needing anything was a revelation, _and_ he had used his first name. Blue eyes met blue eyes. 

Jim brought both hands up to Blair's face, his thumbs softly tracing the outline of the high cheekbones. "Now, before I start, I want a promise from you that you'll hear me out, beginning to end, with absolutely NO interruptions. There will be a question and answer session at the end." 

Blair smiled and he leaned into almost intimate touch of his partner as he nodded his agreement to the promise. 

Jim kept up the light caress on Blair's cheeks as he spoke. "What I did...I wasn't thinking. I tossed you out when I should have drawn you nearer. I literally dropped you in her lap and that was inexcusable." Blair started to shake his head and say something, but powerful hands kept him still and silent. "I failed at that 'Blessed Protector' thing you told me about, and the world almost lost a most brilliant mind. And worse than that, I almost lost the truest friend I've ever had." Jim took a deep breath. //Say it, Ellison, tell him the truth, tell him what you feel, what you promised to tell him.// "Blair, I...I...I want you to come home." //Chickenshit.// Jim dropped his hands from Blair's face and waited for his reaction. 

Blair placed one of his hands over Jim's. "I-It's o-okay, J-Jim. I'd l-like to c-come home." 

One hurdle was crossed, one less nightmare to worry about. Jim's Guide was coming home, and now maybe, just maybe, life could return to normal. 

* * *

Life became nothing like 'normal.' While the Guide was home, it wasn't the same. Blair tip-toed around, as if one dirty towel on the floor would be reason enough for Jim to throw him out again. Jim noticed his actions and tried to reassure him, but the words never came out right. It was frustrating talking to Blair, waiting for him to get the words out, holding back and not finishing his sentences for him. His stuttering became worse, not better, which puzzled Jim. He had hoped that getting Blair into a routine again in familiar surroundings would help his therapy; instead, it was making Blair more nervous. 

//Maybe I shouldn't have brought him back to the loft. Maybe he would have been better off without me. Maybe he'd be improving if it wasn't for me.// The thoughts ran round and round in his head as he stared at the shadows cast by the moonlight through the window. He concentrated, and located the steady cadence of Blair's heartbeat, a sound that usually lulled him to sleep. But not tonight. It had been two weeks since Blair came home, and while all his fine motor skills had come back on-line, his vocal skills were deteriorating. Jim was so used to Blair going a mile a minute from the time he woke up; now there was only silence and the occasional stuttered word or two. //What can I do to help him?// Jim fell into an uneasy sleep. 

Silence. It was all around him, closing in. No sounds came from the jungle, it was an unearthly absence of noise. He looked around him and saw twisted bits of metal, bodies tossed about; the smell of charred flesh hang in the air. But no sound. He couldn't make sense of it, was he deaf? Did he hit his head to cause this? He extracted himself from the wreckage, noting that not even the mangled remains of the chopper made sounds as he moved them. He noted the two pilots were dead, and happened upon Clarke first, the man obviously near death. But as he started to soothe the dying man, Clarke began to speak in a choked whisper. 

"It's all your fault." 

He heard the words. They were the only sounds he could hear, and they echoed around in his mind. He looked around and saw the rest of the dying men, all saying the same thing, a myriad chorus of dying words swirling around, threatening to take him down with them. 

"It's all your fault." 

With his last bit of strength, he ran from the voices, ran from his dying men, running into the noiseless jungle where the silence was welcomed. He stopped and panted for breath, relieved the sounds had not followed him, but another sound soon cut through the stillness. A heartbeat, steady and strong, inviting him to follow. He tracked the steady beat to a stream where he saw what looked to be one of his men, dressed in fatigues, but having long, brown, curly hair, trying to fight off a large black jungle cat. He tried to move, tried to help, tried to call out, but he couldn't, and just before the cat struck its final blow, the man looked at him, blue eyes locking onto blue eyes, and a scream. 

"It's all your fault!" 

The man fell, the heartbeat stopped, and the body fell part-way into the stream. The cat was gone and he found that he could move again. He ran to the stream and pulled the man out of the water, willing a heartbeat to start again. It was too late, the man was gone. Anguish rose up from the depths of his soul, sorrow filling his heart, making it cold. He looked up into the heavens and yelled. 

"NO!" 

Jim sat straight up and grabbed the body that was sitting next to him. 

"J-Jim? Y-you okay?" 

Jim couldn't say anything, he just held on for dear life. The heartbeat hadn't come back, the silence was deafening, and it was all his fault. 

"O-okay J-Jim, it's okay. J-just l-listen t-to my v-voice, come b-back to m-me." His words were soft and determined, a bit of urgency underneath them making the stutter more prominent. "J-Jim, c-come on m-man, y-you can d-do it. Focus on m-my v-voice." 

The heartbeat came back, softly at first, but growing stronger with each beat. He relaxed his hold on the body and realized it was squirming a bit in his hold. He looked down into worried blue eyes and noted the lips were moving. He strained his hearing to pick up the words. 

"...th-that's it, c-center yourself, f-focus on my v-voice. J-Jim?" 

It all came back in a flash, the loft, his bed, Blair in his arms. //Blair?!// He instantly let the younger man go and fumbled for apologies. 

"I'm sorry Blair, I don't know what happened, I must've had a bad dream on top of a zone out. Weird, huh?" 

Blair unconsciously started to rub his upper arms where he'd been held so tight. "W-weird, yeah. G-gotta do a t-test or t-two and f-figure th-that one out. Y-you g-gonna be okay?" 

It was so strange to hear his Guide's voice so strained, so precise. Without energy without ... life. Jim's heart shattered once again at the revelation of what he had done to his partner. He had sent Blair away, he had gotten Blair almost killed, and he had taken away Blair's life. //Why don't they just shoot me now and put me out of my misery. No, that would be too good for me; I deserve to live with this pain the rest of my life. I couldn't save my men in Peru and I can't save Blair now.// 

"J-Jim? D-don't zone on m-me ag-again. C-come on, m-man." 

"I'm not zoning, I'll be all right. Just some old demons I've got to deal with. I'm sorry I woke you up." 

"N-no pr-problem. D-do y-you w-want to t-talk ab-about it?" 

"No." Jim reached up to stroke the soft hair that framed the concerned face before him, but he stopped short of reaching his goal, his mind telling him to turn back. Instead, he just patted Blair's cheek and started to settle back as if to sleep. 

"Thanks for the offer, Chief. But I think we both better get some shut-eye." He turned to face away from the one man that owned him heart and soul, even if Blair didn't know that. It hurt too much, the guilt too strong, and it was all his fault. He felt the other man get up from the bed and make his way carefully downstairs in the darkness. Minutes later, the heartbeat evened out, and all was quiet again in the loft. 

* * *

Morning came, and Jim felt like shit. Looking in the mirror, he looked like shit, also. He had hoped that once Blair was home and safe, the dreams would end, but if last night's was any indication, they were getting worse and more horrifying. Jim splashed some cold water on his face, hoping to erase the signs of the night's terror. It didn't work. He walked out of the bathroom to the kitchen to find Blair busy making breakfast, in silence, as was per the norm these days. Before the 'incident,' Blair would be talking up a storm as soon as Jim emerged from the bathroom; Jim closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to remember 'before.' After taking a deep breath and opening his eyes, he steeled himself for another fairly silent day. 

"Morning, Chief." 

Blair turned to look at him. "M-morning, J-Jim. H-how do y-you w-want your eggs t-today?" 

"Doesn't matter, however you're having them." Jim was tired and he couldn't make any decisions like that today. It took too much energy. Good thing he was still on a part-time schedule; he didn't have to make any big decisions until later that afternoon. 

"S-scrambled with k-ketchup? W-what, th-that dream l-last n-night s-screw up your t-tastebuds, al-also?" It had become a rarity for Blair to tease him like that, and Jim had to let out a smile, a kink in his defensive armor showing. 

"Sure, why not? You only live once, ...you...know." His voice deflated with the heavy underlying meaning of those words. //Oh God, why did I say that?// 

"Yeah, r-right." The rare light-heartedness Blair had displayed earlier was gone. He laid down the plates and dished up the food. Both men ate in silence. 

The morning wore on, as all the other mornings since Blair had come home. Both men would shower, then Jim would read or watch TV, and Blair would study and prepare for next semester's classes, that is, if he was able to teach. By noontime, they both ate again, and again, nothing was said between them, then Jim would escape to work, where at least he would have the hustle and bustle of the other detectives to ward off the stifling silence that had wrapped itself around his life. 

* * *

It was quiet, too quiet. He stared at the seven markers before him, their dying words playing out in his mind, never to be forgotten. 

"It's all your fault." 

And it was. He was in charge of the mission, he had failed to protect his men, and now, he was all alone. Par for the course, he figured. It seemed that ever since he was a kid, he was alone, he was never understood, an outsider looking in. Hell, he faked though, pretending to fit in, pretending to be something he wasn't. Now his failures and his false pretenses were staring him in the face. Seven lives snuffed out because of him. Seven? No, eight. Why were there eight markers? He read down the line: Greene, Jones, Morris, Sarris, Sanceco, Johnson, Clarke and ... Ellison? He stared at the name again. But he was here, watching, living, breathing, he couldn't be there. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Incacha. 

"So, Sentinel, you are here to choose?" 

"Choose what? I don't understand? I'm not dead, my name shouldn't be there." 

"Ah, but you are dying." 

"Well, I guess we all are dying, from the day we are born." 

"That is dying from the outside. You are dying from the inside. Come, walk with me." 

The Sentinel followed the Shaman, deep into the jungle. Incacha stopped near a large boulder and motioned for them to sit. 

"Why do you follow me?" 

"Because you are the Shaman. You have answers, and I will follow." 

"Why do you not follow your Guide?" 

"He can't guide me any longer. I...I damaged him." 

"Damaged? That is impossible. A Sentinel would never hurt his Guide." 

"But I did. It's all my fault. I didn't protect him, and a part of him was lost." 

"Then you must find that part which is lost." 

"How?" 

"By defeating the death that is within you. By healing yourself." 

"Again, how? I drove my Guide away, I deserve this pain." 

"You have held onto this pain for much too long. While a Sentinel must be a protector of his tribe, he cannot protect against things out of his control. Did you cause the metal machine to fall from the sky? Could you have prevented it from falling?" 

"No." 

"Did you offer what help and comfort you could to your tribe as they died?" 

"Yes, but..." 

"There is no other. You protected. That is your job. You cannot determine the length or worth of another man's life. You must live your own and protect your tribe. That is your destiny; that is your fate." 

"I think I understand about the crash, but I still failed. I didn't protect the one person I should have protected. My Guide. And now, he's gone." 

"Not gone, lost." 

"So how do I find him?" 

"Stop the dying inside you. Admit to yourself what your heart is telling you. You made a promise, you must keep it. Once you do that, your Guide will be found." 

"And what if keeping that promise drives him away for good?" 

"A Guide never leaves his Sentinel." 

"That might have been true here in the jungle, but in modern-day America...it's not that simple." 

"Why?" 

"It's looked down upon, for two men to become involved with each other. Plus, I have no idea how he feels; he may not like me in that way, he may leave." 

"A Guide never leaves his Sentinel." 

"You say that with so much conviction." 

"Because it is true. Disagreements, they may have, but never will they leave one another. Tell me, Sentinel, does your Guide love you?" 

"I don't know." 

"Do you love him?" 

"Yes." 

"Does he care for you? Do you care for him? Is he by your side, where he belongs?" 

"I guess so." 

"There is nothing more I can do here. Tell him you must, or you will certainly die." 

"I will die if he leaves me." 

"A Guide never leaves his Sentinel. A Sentinel never leaves his Guide." 

Incacha stood up and walked away, his footsteps becoming fainter much faster than he would have thought. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him. 

Jim woke up to the sunlight streaming through the windows. No cold sweats, no gasping for breath, just a calm morning and a sense of purpose. Today would be it. Today determined his future, his very existence. Today he would either live, or die. 

* * *

Breakfast was over and Blair was settled in at his laptop, Jim at his usual place on the couch. It was now or never; if Blair was revolted by the whole situation, at least Jim would be at work while his Guide left him. He could come home to an empty loft and become the man he was before Blair; cold, unfeeling, waiting for the day a bullet would end his life, either by his own hand, or by stepping in front of one in the line of duty. 

"Blair? Can we talk for a moment?" 

Blair looked up from his laptop. "Sure, J-Jim. Wh-What d-do y-you w-want to t-talk ab-about?" 

//His stutter is worse than ever.// Jim took a deep breath. "Come over here and sit on the couch, please?" 

Blair scooted away from the table and joined Jim on the couch. "Wh-what?" 

"I, um, I need to tell you something." Jim could hear Blair's heart rate increase. "Calm down, it's nothing really bad, at least I hope it isn't." 

"S-so? Wh-what's 'n-nothing r-r-really b-bad'?" 

Jim could feel his heart constricting as his mind played out all the scenarios. Blair laughed at him, Blair pitied him, Blair got angry with him, Blair got up and left him; he never allowed himself to think that Blair loved him. "I love you. No, that isn't entirely it. I've loved you from the moment I met you. What I'm trying to say is that I'm _in_ love with you." He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and waited for his world to crash around him. 

He waited. And waited. He finally opened his eyes to see Blair still sitting there, not moving, not saying anything. "Did you hear me?" 

"Y-yes." 

"You heard that I, Jim Ellison, am in love with you, his same-sex roommate?" 

"Yes." 

"And you are just going to sit there?" 

"Wh-what d-do you want m-me to d-do?" 

"Scream, yell, tell me you're packing your bags and you'll be out by tomorrow, hell, I don't know. I'm new at this." 

"Oh, and y-you th-think I've g-got ex-experience?" 

"That's not what I meant." Jim turned to look out the window. //At least he's not leaving ... yet.// 

"J-Jim?" The voice became more insistent. "J-Jim! L-look at m-me." Jim turned to face the one thing he could never have. "D-does an-any of th-this have t-to do with y-your n-n-n-nightmares?" 

"Sorta, ... kinda, ... hell, I don't know." 

"T-tell m-me ab-about them." 

"Chief, you really don't want to..." 

"Y-yes I d-do! T-tell me!" 

Jim took a deep breath and began. "It's almost always the same, I'm back in the jungle, right after the crash. Everyone but me is dead or dying, and I can't do a damn thing about it. And then there's you, broken and battered with the rest of them, and I keep thinking that all this is all my fault. I couldn't save my men in Peru and I couldn't save you." 

"J-Jim, I'm all r-right. I'm a-alive." 

"No, you're not all right, and I'm the one that caused it. Chief, I promised myself that I would take care of you no matter what happened. If you came out of it brain damaged, or without motor control, I was going to take care of you. I owed you that much, and ... I loved you that much. I still love you. But now, I see you struggling every day, trying to get the words out, not being able to be quickly understood; well, maybe it's my punishment for pushing you away. I wouldn't blame you if you left me. Maybe you'll get better without me." 

"A Guide never l-leaves his Sentinel." 

"What?!" 

"You h-heard me. I'm not l-leaving." 

"Okay, let me get this straight. A balding, middle-aged man tells you he loves you, and he is the cause of your stuttering, and you want to stick around?" 

"Exactly." 

"So, now what?" 

"W-well, I g-guess I n-need to tell you th-that I love you, t-too. Although, I d-don't know about the r-romantic and s-sexual aspects of it. N-never let myself th-think about it. Wh-why don't w-we take th-this one day at a t-time?" 

"I think that's more than I deserve." 

"N-no, Jim, y-you deserve much m-more. Y-you have shown t-time and time again h-how much you c-care about me, h-how much you w-want to protect me..." 

"I didn't do a very good job of that last one." 

"N-no, you did wh-what you th-thought w-was best. You th-thought th-that by distancing me f-from yourself, y-you'd keep me safe, th-that she'd come after y-you and not me. You can't read m-minds. And anyway, it's a-all in the past, and I'm home, t-to stay, f-for as l-long as you w-want me." 

"How about forever?" 

"Forever I can d-do." 

"Know something Chief? I think your stutter is getting better." 

"Maybe it's because th-there's less tension in the a-air now." 

"Yeah, maybe. Um, how about a hug?" 

Blair leaned forward and was captured by strong, loving arms. Jim leaned back into the cushions and Blair melted into the embrace. Sentinel and Guide lay in each other's arms, as it should be. 

* * *

"I'm off to work now. See ya when I get home." Jim picked up his jacket and his keys, pecked Blair on the cheek, and walked out the door, ... when it hit him. He stopped cold in his tracks a few feet down the hallway. //I kissed him!// He turned around and walked back into the loft, not really knowing what to expect. Blair was already sitting down at his laptop, as if nothing had happened. 

"Uh, Chief? You okay?" 

Blair looked up and crinkled his brow. "Yeah, fine, wh-why shouldn't I be? Y-you okay?" 

"I'm fine, it's just, ... well, I kissed you." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"You said we were going to take this one day at a time, and I arrogantly assumed..." 

Blair got up and stood in front of him. "You p-pecked me on the cheek. I don't th-think the world w-will end, J-Jim. In f-fact, I liked it." Blair leaned up and pecked Jim on the cheek. "So now w-we're even. Have a g-good day." He sat back down at his computer. 

Jim had this happy, silly grin on his face, one that he kept all day long. 

* * *

Hugs and pecks on the cheek became the norm for a couple of weeks, and all was almost right with the world. Blair's stutter became less and less noticeable, to where only words that began with w's and th's gave him trouble. He was back working with Jim on a part-time basis, and he would be back teaching by the winter session. All was almost normal, and their relationship was on track but moving slowly, but both men feeling the need for more, but also feeling the need to go slow, nurture their feelings, making it right, making it perfect. 

Jim walked into the loft and found Blair reading on the sofa. He shrugged off his jacket, got a beer from the fridge and pecked Blair on the cheek before sitting down next to him. 

"Whatcha reading there, Chief?" 

"'Th-the Joys of Gay Sex'." 

Jim choked on his beer. "What?!" 

Blair started patting him on the back. "You okay, Jim? Breathe for me." 

"I'm fine. Why are you reading _that_?" 

Blair blushed a thousand shades of red. "I uh, I th-thought th-that w-was wh-where w-we w-were h-heading." The stutter was back with a vengeance. 

Jim could hear Blair's heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. "Calm down. It's just I never thought...I mean I thought about it, but...what about this 'one day at a time' deal? We have yet to kiss each other on the lips, let alone..." Jim looked over at the book. "Let alone actual intercourse!" 

"Jim, it never h-hurts to b-be prepared. I w-was just curious, th-that's all. Are you really all right w-with this? Because if you aren't, let's stop e-everything right now." 

//Oh God, what do I tell him? Tell him about the erotic dreams I've had that featured him? But they were dreams, not reality. Am I ready for this? Do I want this? ... Yes.// "Blair, I love you and I want to be with you. I want to take this at your pace, and when you want more, you let me know." 

"No, let's take th-this at _our_ pace; w-we both have to be ready for th-the next steps. Deal?" 

"Deal." 

"Now kiss me, Big Guy." 

Jim leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but strong hands turned his face and lips met lips. Tentatively, lips parted and tongues met, exploring, tasting, moving. Blair leaned back into the cushions, and pulled Jim down with him, never losing contact. Jim wanted to possess that mouth latched onto his, he never wanted to let go. But the need for oxygen made both men reluctantly part. Jim started to get off the smaller man, but he found strong arms keeping him in place. He looked down into the clear blue eyes and saw nothing but passion and love. 

"I like you like this. Covering me, protecting me." 

"Always. But I think I might be a bit too heavy for you." 

"Never. You're perfect. Th-that kiss...wow!" 

"I could say the same thing." 

"Can w-we try it again?" 

"Anytime, anyplace. Just for you; only for you." Jim leaned down and possessed Blair's mouth once more, allowing all his love for his Guide to flow into that kiss. He tasted Blair, really tasted him, imprinting that last missing sense into his brain. He thought he could feel a connection building, cementing them to one another, a connection he had never felt before, even with Carolyn. This was where he was supposed to be, this is where he was meant to be, society be damned. His life, his love, his whole world, was wrapped up into this one exquisite being. He was home. 

Again, the need to breathe broke the kiss. This time, when he attempted to get up, the strong arms encircling him allowed him up. 

"I think we'd better break some of this off now, Chief. It's getting a bit too hot in here. Remember, you were the one that said _we_ had to set the pace." 

"I did, didn't I. But ... wow." 

"I know what you mean." Jim got up off the couch and extended his hand to help his partner up. "Help me make some dinner and we'll try that kissing thing again later." 

Blair absolutely beamed up at Jim. "Promise?" 

"Promise. Now let's find something to eat before I change my mind and we end up making out like two horny teenagers on the couch." 

"I like that 'making out on the couch' bit. Let's skip dinner." Blair pulled Jim back down on top of him. 

"Sandburg! I don't know about you, but _I_ need something to eat before I take on all your energy." 

Blair grumbled, but let the Sentinel go. They never made and ate dinner so fast in their lives. 

* * *

Three weeks of making out on the couch was three weeks of pure heaven for both men, but Jim knew that for their relationship to grow, one great hurdle had to be overcome. Of course, Jim was a bit nervous; he was about to take a giant leap from relative security to open hostility. But he had to go there, had to reclaim his life and stop living a lie. 

Jim walked in the door, tossing his jacket on the hook and the keys in the basket. "Hey Chief." He leaned over the couch to kiss his Guide on the cheek. "Wanted to ask you something." He sat down and clasp on of Blair's hands in his own. 

Blair looked up from the book he was reading. "Wh-what's up?" 

"How about we go out for dinner tonight? Just the two of us, on a date." 

"A date?" 

"Yeah, where two people who are involved go out and eat and spend time together." 

"Are you sure?" 

"No, but it's a step I need to take. It's a step _we_ need to take." Jim saw the confused look on Blair's face. "What, did you think I was going to hide _us_?" 

"I just th-thought w-we'd be an _us_ here in the loft..." 

"Yes, here in the loft, at the police station, out at a restaurant." Jim stopped and it suddenly dawned on him. "You do want there to be an _us_ outside of the loft, don't you?" 

"I never th-thought about the outside w-world. I didn't think you'd w-want it. Wh-what about the guys at the precinct? W-won't th-this hurt your chances of promotion? Or, heaven forbid, th-that someone doesn't back you up wh-when you need it? I w-won't come out w-with you if th-there's a slightest chance I'll lose you." 

Jim scooted closer to his lover. "Blair, I'll never deny you, I'll never deny there's an _us_ ; I just won't do it. As for promotions and such, if I never get promoted again, that'll be fine with me. Too much paperwork, anyway. And you know the guys I work with; I don't think they'd let the thought of _us_ distract them. In fact..." Jim turned to look at Blair straight in the eye. "Simon already knows, and I'm sure that Brown, Rafe and Connor have their suspicions." 

"Simon knows?!" 

"Yeah, he cornered me the other day wondering why I'd had this stupid grin on my face. I couldn't lie to the man, so I told him. He told me 'congratulations, you finally figured it out and get back to work.'" 

"Really?" 

"Really. Now I know that not everyone will be as understanding, and I'm willing to deal with it. If they don't like the thought of _us_ , then they weren't our friends in the first place, right?" 

"Right." 

"Now, are we going out tonight, or what?" 

Blair's eyes lit up. "Sure, I just need to change, be right back." 

Jim watched Blair retreat to his room. He couldn't believe that a young, vivacious, beautiful being like Blair actually loved him. But he knew Blair would never lie to him, never say or do something to placate him, because Jim would know. Jim would know by his heartbeat or his breathing that he was lying or if he really wasn't enjoying any of this. And if those kisses were any indication of how Blair truly felt, Lord help him when they really get started. He had this feeling he wouldn't be able to sit right for a week. 

Dinner was pleasant enough, and only a few people stared when Jim took Blair's hand and lightly kissed him on the lips. It felt right, it felt good, and there would be no hiding this relationship. They held hands going into the restaurant, coming out of the restaurant, while they walked in the park ... it was the most romantic time in Jim's life. Carolyn had never liked public displays of affection, and that was something he had missed during their courtship and marriage. They held hands coming up the stairs and into the loft, but once they were home, Blair let go. 

"Th-that was w-wonderful man. I had a great time. It felt good, didn't it?" 

"Yeah, it was good." Even though Jim had never wanted to let go, he still felt the warmth of his Guide's hand in his. 

"W-well, I'm going to hit the hay. I'll see you in the morning." Blair started to retreat to his bedroom. 

"Blair, wait." 

Blair turned around and gave a puzzled look to Jim. He then smiled and advanced toward Jim, and putting his arms around Jim, he kissed him thoroughly. 

"W-was th-that th-thank you enough?" 

Jim held him close. "That wasn't what I wanted, but it was very nice." 

"Wh-what did you w-want?" 

"Would you sleep with me tonight?" Jim felt the arms around his neck stiffen. "Only sleep, nothing else, I promise. I just don't want to let you go." 

"I uh, I th-think I could handle th-that. Let me go change and I'll meet you upstairs." Blair let go and headed back to his room and Jim headed up the stairs to what he now considered _their_ bedroom. He undressed down to his boxers and slipped under the covers, listening for his partner to come up the stairs. Once Blair was at the top of the stairs, he stopped. 

"A-are you sure about this?" 

Jim slid over and pulled the covers up for him. "I've very sure. As far as I'm concerned, this is your bedroom too, now." 

Blair slid in and snuggled next to Jim, a protective arm coming around his waist. Both men slept in peace and comfort. 

* * *

It happened, it finally happened. Eight months of hard work and worry were finally paying off as Jim ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, threw open the door to the loft and scared the bejezzes out of Blair. 

"Guess what!" He threw his jacket toward the hook, not caring he missed, tossed his keys in the vicinity of the basket and walked over to his lover to place a sound kiss on his lips. 

Once he released that wonderful mouth, Blair found his voice. "What in the world has gotten into you?" 

"I've just got the greatest news ever." Jim was sitting down next to Blair on the couch with a very smug look on his face. 

"Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" Blair's stutter was almost non-existent these days, and it was another reason to feel good. It had been a long and tiring eight months since the incident at the fountain. 

"They got her!" 

"Who's they, and they've got who?" 

"The FBI got Alex. It was an undercover sting operation to stop the sale of the nerve gas that she stole here in Cascade. She's behind bars now, probably for life." Jim turned and leaned into Blair, foreheads almost touching, as he cupped Blair's face in his hands. "Chief, she can't hurt us ever again. She's out of our lives, for good." 

Blair was speechless, which was a rarity these days, and Jim wanted to keep speechlessness a definite rarity. The younger man fell into Jim, arms encircling him as they quietly clung to each other, silently letting go of the awful past. Blair was the first to break the silence. 

"I feel as though a horrible chapter of my life has been closed." 

"Same here. I love you, you know." 

"I love you. Jim, I ..." Blair pulled back and looked down. 

"What? Is there something wrong?" 

Blair brought his gaze up to meet Jim's, his eyes full of unshed tears. "I want more. I want you to make love to me, tonight." Blair leaned into Jim's chest, his head fitting perfectly along his neck. 

Jim brought his arms around his lover and held on tight. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" 

"Yeah, I'm ready, but only if you are, too." 

"I think I've been ready since the day I met you. Come on, let's go upstairs." Jim got up and offered his hand to Blair, and they walked hand in hand to the bedroom. 

Once both men were sitting on the bed, they hesitantly reached out for one another, lips meeting, tongues doing the now-familiar dance. Their bodies responded, wanting and needing more this time, needing the completion that would make them one. Slowly clothing was removed until they were lying naked, side by side. 

Jim nibbled at Blair's earlobe, then kissed his way down his jawline, stopping to taste those luscious lips again. He started down his neck, licking at his Adam's apple, his tongue dipping in and out of the hollow of his neck. His hand explored further downward, slightly raking across the chest hair and teasing the nipples into hard nubs. He replaced his mouth where his hands had been, alternately nipping and licking, causing moans to escape from his lover. His hand found the rapidly hardening shaft and softly stroked it, his thumb spreading the precum around the tip. Blair's moans became more insistent, and Jim moved down to between Blair's thighs, then licked his erection from base to tip and down the underside. The texture was unlike anything he'd felt before, and the taste was almost enough to send him into zone out. It was Blair, it was Blair's smell put into taste, musky, almost herbal, and he wanted more. He took in as much as he could and began to suck and lick, one hand fondling the heated sac below, the other softly caressing his abdomen, until Jim felt the end was near and he stopped. 

"Oh God, please Jim, don't stop." 

Jim leaned over Blair and kissed him. "I want us to come together. I want to be inside you ... if that's what you want." 

Blair's hands trailed up and down Jim's chest, stopping at his cock only long enough to give it a couple of quick strokes, eliciting a moan from his lover. "I'd like that. Make love to me." 

Jim reached over to the night table to get the lubricant that they had placed there for just this occasion. He knelt back down between Blair's thighs, and Blair pulled his knees up to give Jim better access. Jim slowly placed one lube-slicked finger into Blair's opening, allowing him to get used to the intrusion, gently stretching and loosening him until he was thrusting back onto Jim's finger. A second finger was added, and Jim went deep inside Blair, finding that one place that would set him off. He rubbed gently over the nub buried deep, and an electric shock coursed through Blair as he arched his hips off the bed with the sensation. 

"You okay there?" 

Blair was breathless. "Fine, just fine. Oh God, I'm more than fine." 

Jim smiled, knowing he was giving his partner so much pleasure. He added a third finger, and once Blair was thrusting back with it, he withdrew his fingers and lubed up his own throbbing cock. Slowly, he eased into Blair, a little at a time, giving Blair time to adjust to him. Once he was in balls deep, he waited for Blair to initiate movement; there was no way in hell he was going to hurt his Guide. Blair started to move his hips, and Jim leaned over his lover, grasping his lover's cock and stroking it in time with their thrusts. 

Jim was almost in sensory overload. The tight, hot tunnel surrounded his cock, pulling and tugging him to the very edge of oblivion. Blair's mouth was on his, slick tongues sliding across each other, each dueling, both winning. The small moans coming from both his lover's throat and his own was music filling the loft. They were one, one body, one soul. He wanted to go on, rocking inside his lover, stroking him, loving him, but the end was near. He felt Blair tighten, and with a shout, Blair came, spurting his semen between them. Blair's internal muscles spasmed, literally pulling Jim over the edge as he threw his head back and plunged one more time deep into Blair, his hot seed filling his lover, marking him as his forever. 

Jim gently pulled out of Blair and collapsed next to him, as Blair picked up a discarded T-shirt to clean himself up. Once relatively un-sticky, both men pulled the covers around them and they snuggled together, arms around each other, as quiet voices extended into the night. 

"I love you, Jim." 

"I love you, Blair." 

All was right. Sentinel and Guide were one. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
